Maurauder Memories
by skulblaka222
Summary: Your identity is everything, everyone leaves their footprints behind, and for you and me, it’s our fingerprints. Remember this. After having a nightmare, Harry decides to pluck up the courage, to visit Sirius's Room in Grimmauld place. set before DH.
1. Terror

Chapter 1 Terror 

A/N- This isn't going to turn into an epic tale in fact it's very melodramatic. Please be nice and Review. (I don't own HP) BTW I wrote this BEFORE DH.

Harry gave a shuddering breath something did not feel right. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. The hypnotic tone of the water falling onto the stone floor, was all that could be heard.

He looked around nervously, wand raised. Dumbledore was a few feet away from him.

He looked scared.

Suddenly pain erupted in his head.

It was if his head was about to explode. White lights were taunting him, forming in his eyes.

A rasping voice spoke.

"Kill me now Dumbledore…"

said Harry, his mind full of agony and pain. It was the voice of Voldemort

"If death is nothing, kill the boy" Said Harry, his insides screaming in agony. Just take me down! Thought Harry. He wanted the torment to end. Let me die…

_No, no. _

"Yes." Said a familiar voice.

Harry opened his eyes through the pain all he could see was a blurred outline of a transparent man… "Sirius?" the man nodded. A dirty silver curtain wavered behind him, even though there was no wind.

He started to move towards him stumbling on the polished floor. "Yes come and join us."

Harry looked up again to see his father standing beside him. "Dad?" he held out his arms. "Your mothers waiting…" Harry tried with all his might to run forward, cluthing his forehead. However, something was pulling him back. Pain rocketed through his head he screamed, as everything went black and Sirius and his father disappeared. _Noooooooooooooooooo!_ He screamed, reaching his hands aimlessly into space. "Harry?" called a faraway voice. Silvery eyes were forming and reforming before his eyes…

"HARRY!"

Harry woke with a start, sweating profusely. Lupin was furiously shaking him like a rag doll. His already ruffled jet-black hair was even messier plastered to his forehead.

Harry grabbed his glasses. "Are you all right harry?" asked Lupin anxiously.

It took him a moment to realize where he was. Sighed deeply, and rubbing his eyes that were filling with tears rapidly, he tried to get up.

"Are you alright?" he repeated.

"Fine, bad dream." He said, hoping his voice sounded reassuring.

For the past three weeks after the break-in at the ministry for the second time in two years, he had had dreams. Terrible dreams where his father and Sirius would call to him. Beckoning him into the veil. Twice he had reached out for the fluttering curtain; twice he had woken up just in time, gasping for breath.

Lupin had been his only company his last resource to his father and Sirius.

They spent little time talking to each other; they were only there for each other's support.

Grimmald place seemed emptier than usual. Its entire member's were out doing work for the order. The order…

It would only be a matter of time before he Harry had to leave. He would never return. Even if he survived, he knew that. He couldn't bear it. Sometimes he almost wished that Voldemort had convinced Dumbledore to kill him that night. Everything seemed pointless; the only thing that mattered was finding the Horcruxs.

He could not do this without Ron and Hermoine not even without Ginny. Nevertheless, he had to leave her behind. He could not dare put her in danger again.

The only reason she had survived so far was luck.

He felt that his and her luck was running out.

The last thing he would do was let Voldemort find out about their relationship.

The Last time it had happened he'd lost Dumbledore, the time before Sirius.

"Harry?" Harry looked up to see Lupin staring at him curiously, seated at the bed opposite Harry, where Ron usually slept.

_I'm only here because of Lupin_. He thought.

"Are you all right?" Lupin asked anxiously. Harry stared at him for a moment, thinking how much he wanted to scream what he really felt. " Yeah fine," he answered finally, putting on his fake-reassuring grimace that he'd practiced. " Just a bad dream..." he said fading off, pushing back tears. Not realizing his voice was shaking.

"You sure? I under stand what you're going through, they were my best friends…" he said. " My only friends… for a long time anyway." Harry thought he saw a small crystalline tear fall down his scarred face, but it was quickly wiped away.

Harry twisted his face again to look reassuring and said through gritted teeth, "Sure. Fine. As I said: Bad dream." Lupin still looked concerned but turned away

Leaving Harry for his room, reluctantly. Harry was alone again.

Harry lay down, put the emotional welled up inside him, it was too much. He let it out, but no tears came, only anger, hate, and pity for himself. Harry couldn't stand it any longer.

He hopped out of bed, ignoring the bitter coldness. He did not allow himself pleasures anymore.

Tonight he decided, he would visit Sirius's room.


	2. The Scrap Book

A/N I don't own Harry Potter blah, blah, blah.

**Warning this chapter gets really annoying at times for the love of your computer please do not bash it in frustration, most would call it emotional idiocy.**

Harry opened the door; the door's hinges creaking noisily. The landing was covered in dust, once lavish rugs strewn across the floor. It was bare all except a portrait of the old order of the phoenix. Harry had hung it reluctantly up, after their deaths. His mother, father, and Sirius smiled down at him hauntingly, taunting him. He turned the frame around so that only the black backing of the picture showed. An owl hooted outside. It was probably Hedwig back from hunting. She could wait.

He walked down the passage, oblivious to where he was going.

His feet knew the way…

Why did Sirius taunt him? Was it enough that he was living reminder of his father?

Trapped inside another man's skin, everything ripped away from him. Family. Friends. Anything happy.

Harry subconsciously stepped over all the creaking floorboards. It was second nature to most of the order of the phoenix for the mere reason of Mrs. Black, Sirius's mother. Bellatrix. The one who had done it. Ruined his life. This house, even Sirius were a constant reminder of the murder he had nearly committed... Just a few more steps. The veil, the transparent window to the dead, fluttering innocently. Drawing victims into it's shadowy arch…_Don't think about. _Thought Harry. _The more you do the harder it will be._

He had tried many times to enter Sirius's room. However whenever he went to reach out for the doorknob… emotion had overwhelmed him and he had returned to bed, shaken up with misery. Those were the nights when he was most like to have the dream.

When it had seemed like hours of walking, he stopped in front of a black door. It had a gold 's' painted on it, the paint was peeling, and it seemed as through that some magical fungus had taken residence, since the door kept smoking purple fumes. Harry reached out. His palm became sweaty; his mind swam with emotion. He couldn't do it. He couldn't, why did he even try to convince himself? Idiot…NO! He had to. A mental battle was fighting in his brain.

_Don't face it!_

_Last chance._

_You'll never get in._

_He is your godfather._

_He was your godfather…_

Tonight seemed like the night, the only night Harry could do it. The last night he would be here. Harry didn't know why. A slight hunch was building.

He grasped the cold brass handle. Taking time to feel its texture, all it's lumps and bumps. The doorknob was a beautifully decorated handle in the shape of a serpent curling round a precious jewel, emerald… Don't!

A sharp deep breath resonated of the hallway ceiling. He had got this far last time.

But not this time. He would open the door, even if it took all his strength and half the night.

The handle twisted smoothly in his hand, the serpent's teeth piercing his finger. Tears started gushing down his face, not from pain but from fear from what he would find in side. He pushed at the door, it was now or never…

However, it did not budge. Harry laughed shakily at his stupidity. Then scolded himself for laughing.

He grasped it firmly and pulled.

Dust poured out, making him cough and splutter, shielding his eyes, until it settled.

Harry stepped in. It was nothing special. Just a plain, black room. With a plain single bed, sheets crumpled in a heap at the end of it. A small dresser with a lamp stood to one side and a giant broken mirror with another serpent curled round the edge. Harry let out a sigh. For some reason he had expected to find the limp form of Sirius covered in scarlet blood, draped in the dirty curtain, from the Death Chamber in ministry of magic.

He gulped. What had he expected? Sirius to greet him at the door? To welcome him in, tell him that the veil was a magic trick? That this was a dream?

That he was not the boy who lived but eleven years old and just received his letter and he had come to tell his godfather…

He shook his head; splaying all his charcoal hair all over his face and wiped a tear from under his glasses.

It was no use, the world is harsh… no matter how much you do that is good it always comes back to reality.

Something caught his eye. In the middle of the heap was a book the size of two photo albums, plastered together roughly.

Harry strode towards it, new hope arising. For whatever reason he didn't know. Seizing it,

He looked at it dumbstruck.

It gold lettering it read the _Marauder's_, in faded writing and the same symbol as on the _Marauder's Map_.

Opening it his heart skipped a beat. He turned to the front page. There was a small origami dog, made of parchment. Touching it tracing it with his finger made his insides squirm with excitement.

Suddenly the dog leapt from the page and a small thought bubble appeared above its head. _Read me._

A/N v. melodramatic I know. Sorry to leave you guys on a cliffhanger. Feel free to let out your angst out on me by sending me reviews.


	3. The Power of Identity

**A/N People keep telling me I don't write autobiographies but fantasies. I don't know why. Harry potter's real isn't he?**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, ect, ect.

The cool rustled through the broken window, in the dark, musty old bedroom. Harry turned the page still in shock. Mind reeling he wondered why he hadn't tried this before? All along, he tried to avoid the truth. Then it hit him. This is what Voldemort wants, an enemy that is weak at heart and gives up at the sign of death. _Well if anything_ thought Harry furiously,_ it has made me stronger! _The first page read:

_To Harry, _

_This photo-album or scrapbook is all the memories I could find within myself of us, the Marauders. It was started in our seventh year meant to be a guide to all troublemakers in the future. However it never was finished. This all the young Marauders and I can remember. It is for you should I perish. I though you might want to know more about your mother and father's past. _

_Your godfather Sirius Black _

_Ps Your identity is everything, everyone leaves their footprints behind, and for you and me, it's our fingerprints. Remember this._

An ink paw print sat next to Sirius's name.

Thick watery tears fell onto the dried yellowing parchment. Harry was crying again.

It took Harry nearly fifteen minutes to turn the page as they were stuck together with years of dust. They were thick parchment just like the letter he'd received when he had found out he was a wizard. It smooth texture reminded him of all the letters he had received from Ron, Hermoine, Sirius.

The words in Sirius's letter had touched him. Though he was still confused about the foot/finger print metaphor. At least that's what he thought it was.

The page was blank. Disappointment rose up in him. Sirius hadn't finished the album, if anything he hadn't started.

He felt like tearing the book into a million little pieces, throw across the room and burn it. But he couldn't.

Not knowing why but there seemed to be a glimmer of hope in these musty old pages.

For the second time that night, a battle raged. Between hope and despair.

Harry sat on the bed flicking through them.

Nothing, nothing, nothing…Nothing again.

The Last page turned.

It had two single lines.

_Mischief only turns for identity._

_The one with the right fingerprint and skills is the only one who can open me._

Harry looked at them confused even more… "OF COURSE!" he shouted so loud slapping his head in annoyance. So loud that it was fortunate that Mrs. Black hadn't arisen.

Listening intently he waited for Lupin to come running. Miraclulacly nobody had woken.

The pages seemed to turn themselves in excitement, towards the second page.

He touched the page as much as he could.

Then as it had seemed he had said a magic word, words began to appear.

_Tonight a wolf will guide, guide you through the night to your desires. He will show you, why. _

The page rippled and Harry almost instinctively dipped his head towards the page.

The Room swirled into a mad pallet of colour, sending him drifting into a moonlight night.

Dark trees rustled gently, the night was warm. Harry recognized the forbidden forest, to one side and the great castle he knew as Hogwarts to the other. Hagrid's hut smoked next to him, and a figure emerged from the shadows. He jumped back whipping out his wand, readying himself a spell. However, it was only Lupin, with Madam Pomfrey leading him down the grounds. But something seemed odd.

This Lupin looked younger and less worn.

Leaves were crunching were there was no wind and feet flickered in the dark, quickly to be covered up.

Was this Lupin's memory?

Harry followed trying hard to keep up with the brisk paces of the matron.

He heard a faint rustle. His head whipped around so did the matron and Lupin.

However there was nothing there, Lupin smiled.

What had Lupin smiled at, was the moon already dulling his senses, making him mad?

Lupin looked straight at Harry, looking like he was trying to surpress a laugh.

Then it hit Harry. It was not Lupin's memory! How could it have been? It was one of the marauders. Now that he looked harder he could she their faint outlines. He suspected this was because he was an onlooker of this memory.

It was stupid in the first place, of him to think this was Lupin's as his senses were dulled and he usually couldn't remember half of what had occurred.

Without thinking, Harry had absently minded walked into the whomping willow, but his hand just went through it. Harry gasped jumping back, it was an odd sensation. It felt as if he were surrounded by ice-cold water.

The memory would not let him through; he had to wait for whoever's memory it was to pass, he felt like he was encased in a magical force field, only allowed to stay within it and the person's memory. A few moments later, madam Pomfrey bustled out, un-freezing the tree as she went. It was several minutes before she had disappeared out of sight and three boys had appeared out thin air. Sirius looked handsome, with shoulder length hair and ebony eyes. James had his hair ruffled just like Harry's, (who absentmindly ruffled his own,) and sparkling, malicious hazel eyes. They looked a picture of glory, an air coolness and trouble making surrounded them. The only one of the three that looked out of place was Wormtail, with his watery eyes and scruffy blond hair.

"Wormtail," said James suddenly, " I think the time is ripe for you to let us in."

Wormtail chuckled horribly, letting out a small nervous squeak as he did.

He breathed in and then out, "come on Wormtail it doesn't take us that long to transform!" said Sirius impatiently. Wormtail scrunched up his nose. To Harry it looked like nothing had happened but suddenly, brown greasy fur sprouted out all over his body and he shrunk rapidly to the size of a common rat. It had happened so fast Harry didn't have time to blink.

James and Sirius sighed, putting away their wands in their robes. However they did not take as long as wormtail to transform, in fact as soon as they had bowed over, their forms had taken the shape of a beautiful majestic, white stag and a handsomely groomed dog.


	4. Fading

**A/N Sorry I haven't updated in a while, writer's block, other stories, sound familiar. Onto to a short summary of the chapter:**

**How can a simple memory change the way Harry sees his mentor and friend Remus Lupin. In fact, how can it change the way he perceived the Marauder's all together?**

**Read and review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't Harry Potter or the Marauder's**.

Harry was dumbstruck. Never had he'd seen his Dad, apart from in moving photos, from his point of view. The soul of his stag patronus. He stood in the Memory, frozen to the spot, as they began to disappear down the base of the tree. James, his father trailing in last.

The image of the perfect moonlit night began to shimmer, it was disappearing. _No_! thought Harry.

He felt a slight tugging at his waist, as if someone on the end of an invisible rope was pulling him.

Harry understood why. To see the rest of the memory he would have to follow.

A scream erupted through the air as Harry climbed the passageway he knew so well from the third year. He speed up, fear stricken in his heart for his father's safety. There was no reason to his panic. But it fuelled him in time to see Lupin painfully grow three feet talons, and stop the memory from fading. Harry closed his eyes for a moment and heaved in large gulps of air, to catch his breath.

When his eyes flickered open, he saw the fully transformed werewolf in front of him supported by his father and Sirius. It, well Remus Lupin was out cold.

Harry who had seen him transform before, was worried he had not seen this happen.

Something was wrong.

"Moony!" shouted James, who had resumed his normal form, also looked worried.

Sirius had also transformed into his human self as well.

"Remus!" shouted Sirius, shaking him violently.

"Oh Merlin! He's not breathing!"

Everything was silent; Harry could not hear the Marauder's shout it was as if time had stood still.

Why did Sirius want Harry to see this horrifying scene?

Harry closed his eyes oblivious to what was happening, to every sound.

This seemed like something out of his nightmares.

What was going to happen?

Everything would be ok, Remus Lupin had stood before him only hours before.

A single word brought him back to earth.

"No."

Harry's conscious snapped back into reality, well memory, from his pensive state.

It was Remus standing before him transformed back into a reckless schoolboy, still supported by James and Sirius in their animal forms. "But we have to Moony," "don't worry about us…" said Sirius. Harry relised why he'd been shown this. Sirius, must have taken it to heart what he'd said about his father's 'excursions' and pranks, he simply wanted to show that his father was not the man he'd seen in Snape's worst memory.

"No." he said simply again. " I won't let you, turn yourselves in for my sake." Lupin shook his head as if agreeing with himself.

"Besides who will see me when your gone, who will help the pain?" he asked with a weak smile.

" That little red fox?" teased James.

Harry's heart stopped. He did not know why this fact had stirred a feeling in him.

" _You mean that little cute woodland creature that's fallen head over heels for Remy_." Mocked Sirius.

Harry felt something grasp his shoulder, he turned, surprised but no one was there.

He felt sick, the hand shock him hard.

The memory began to fade…

Remus continued to shake Harry's slack shoulders.

He had walked into the room after hearing a creak upstairs, and found Harry sitting on the bed staring aimlessly into a leather bound book.

Finally, a small breath escaped Harry's lips. Remus knew he was back.

"Harry?" he whispered.

A small tear slide down Harry's face, "why did he show me?"

Remus was taken aback. "Who Harry?"

He looked up at Remus, surprised to see him there, alive.

"What happened Harry?" his voice strained on the end of desperation.

"Sirius, left me this…" he said handing the book he had been clutching so desperately a second ago. Remus took it, feeling the familiar worn leather.

It was the Marauder's unfinished scrapbook, except it did not contain normal moving images but copies of the memories of the Marauder's.

"What did it show you?" asked Remus his voice low, and gravely.

"It showed me the night you nearly died."


End file.
